


Hearth, Home, War, and Politics.  For Kids!

by kitkat1003



Series: Medievaniac Times [4]
Category: Animaniacs
Genre: Diplomacy, Learning to Rule, War, and the town was okay with that, author does not forget that king salazar murdered the warners parents, author does not forget that the warners lived in an abandoned orphanage, give Yakko a break challenge, hey the warners suddenly became royalty after years of destitution should we talk about that?, i think, learning to lean on others, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkat1003/pseuds/kitkat1003
Summary: Wakko’s Wish was granted.  They made it.  But time doesn’t stop when the credits roll, and the Warners have a story that’s longer than an 80 minute musical.
Relationships: Dot Warner & Wakko Warner & Yakko Warner
Series: Medievaniac Times [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036833
Comments: 25
Kudos: 166





	1. Prologue, part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did change a bit of the movie, got rid of the scene where they talk about the Beauty Mark surgery, because that’s the 1 joke I lowkey didn’t like in the movie??? Idk it didn’t fit narratively so I got rid of it sue me. Also, wanna give a shout out to my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr! They make sure these fics are in tip top shape, and these pieces wouldn’t be as good as they are without them <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dot has her operation, Wakko has secrets, and Yakko deals with a truth that isn’t exactly new to him.

When Yakko holds Dot’s limp body in his arms, watching Wakko run as if his life depends on it, he thinks _This is it. This is where it ends._

Because the cannon booms again behind him, and it shoots past him, whipping his fur forward, towards the star. He knows Wakko is fast but he isn’t that fast. The cannonball is going to _catch_ him. Yakko is going to lose two siblings in a day.

If he does, he’s going to take King Salazar down with him. He’s going to tear the man apart until there’s nothing left, because his family’s legacy will _not_ just be their corpses made by a single selfish individual.

 _I’m sorry Mom, Dad,_ he thinks, closing his eyes in a slow blink. He imagines them so clearly, even though his memories are so fuzzy.

And when he gazes upon the light, he sees Wakko collide with it, and for a single, selfish moment, he hopes again, prays the fluttering feeling won’t be crushed before it has time to fly.

* * *

Wakko knows Dot is dead. He knows it when she’s whispering the same story to Yakko that he’s heard from his older brother a million times, her voice soft and breaking. He knows it because he’s seen death before. Seen it from Sir and seen it when he was losing air.

It hurts, and the whole world is frozen, as it _should be_ for her. She’s his little sister, she’s the one he’s supposed to protect. That’s why he went to the mines, that’s why he did anything at all. That’s why they’re here. And he _refuses_ to let it end like this. 

He’s not going to let her die for nothing. If he has his way, he won’t let her die at all. He stands, and runs, footfalls over snow, heart pounding in his ears.

_Help me spirit, wherever you are!_

The cannon fire doesn’t stop him. A million soldiers couldn’t stop him now, and he leaps towards the light, and falls into stardust.

* * *

As the bright light from the star fades, and Wakko turns to the crowd with the spoils of his wish, Dot jumps up with a smile. Yakko wipes tears of joy from his eyes when no one is looking, standing up from his kneeling position to follow Dot to his little brother. They meet Wakko in the middle of the valley, his hands holding a veritable fortune, to them. The crowd cheers, and King Salazar weeps, pathetically, into the snow.

The soldiers don’t know what to do, with their monarch a wreck on his knees. That’s the opportunity they—and all the townspeople who are holding them up as if _they_ were kings—take to use what was left of their wrecked wagons to make a mode of transport home. They sing until their lungs are aching, which for Dot still isn’t that long, but they have the money for it now, so she lets herself shout, just a little more.

The first thing Yakko does, when everyone scatters back to their homes, is hug Wakko and Dot tight. He pulls them close to his chest, trembles with relief at them being safe and whole.

The walk to their shack is the lightest it’s been in years. Wakko skips, cheeks rosy with the winter chill but not minding in the slightest. Yakko feels hopeful enough to joke and Dot giggles at a few of them, makes some quips of her own. 

They collapse in their bed, Yakko in the middle like usual, except they haven’t slept together like this since before Dot was sick. Dot and Wakko aren’t sure why, and Yakko has forgotten the reason, at this point.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to make you well,” Yakko whispers to Dot, and she giggles again.

“I’m going to buy an entire pot roast,” Wakko mumbles, almost dreamily. 

“Don’t drool on me, sib,” Yakko jokes, and then yawns. It’s so rare that he’s tired enough to let it show in front of his family, but he supposes today can be an exception.

“I love you,” Dot whispers, and Yakko grins.

“Love you more.”

* * *

The next morning feels surreal. Yakko wakes in bed with his two siblings on either side of him, and has to hold them a little tighter, just to be sure they’re really there.

Dot shifts, in her sleep, snuggles closer, and Wakko is nibbling on the already frayed fabric of his belt. It's less of a belt and more just a piece of fabric tied around his waist. Yakko sighs, too relieved to be bothered with drool. He'll be riding the high of his family being whole for a while, so the little things aren't going to bother him.

He can't tell the time, but based on the position of the sun he thinks they probably have another hour before they should go in to see Scratchy. The quicker Dot can have her operation the better.

But he's still a little tired, and his siblings look so peaceful, so he gives them another half hour.

They do still have to get up, though, and Yakko wrangles them out of bed. Wakko hangs on him, half asleep even as they walk over to Dr. Scratchansniff's office, and he doesn't perk up until they see a man running toward them.

Yakko positions himself so he's in front when the guy manages to catch up to them, because he isn't stupid. They made a powerful enemy by provoking King Salazar, and the King knows who they really are. Yakko’s not taking any chances.

He doesn't notice that Wakko already has his mallet out, ready for a fight. Dot is pushed behind him, despite her protests.

"Whadaya want," He keeps his face neutral, even though every instinct is screaming for him to run. "Wait a minute-" is that?

"It's the guy who let us go!" Dot exclaims, pirouetting around her brothers and curtsying in greeting to the guard.

"How are you still this cute, man," The guy runs a hand through his hair, awkwardly fidgeting and flustered, and Yakko raises a brow, unimpressed.

"I-uh- I gotta tell you guys something, man. It's _important_ , man! You gotta believe me!" Yakko doesn't have a soft spot for anyone who works for King Salazar, but he can _almost_ respect a guy who is willing to chew Salazar out for doing something egregious.

 _That something being_ **_killing_ ** _his little sister, because all she wanted to do was be well._

"Well, we have a prior engagement, so you'll have to wait," he responds, because nothing is more important than Dot getting better. "We're going to the Doctor's."

"You can come with and wait, if you want," Dot suggests, batting her eyelashes at the man. 

Yakko rolls his eyes, and Wakko makes a gagging motion, lowering his mallet but not putting it away.

"I'm powerless against ya, man— _fine_ ," the guard acquiesces, and Yakko lets out a sigh of relief.

"You go in front. You can't miss it, the signs easy to see," He doesn't completely distrust the guy, but he _definitely_ doesn't trust him enough to leave his back exposed to him. That's just _asking_ yourself to get stabbed.

Thankfully, the man doesn't argue, and they continue their trek to Scratchy's office. It's not a long trek, and yet they’re still interrupted before they get there.

“You three!” Plotz’s voice comes from the carriage that is blocking their path. Yakko has half a mind to kick it out of the way, but he doesn’t, just waits.

“If you’re going to try and tax us again, you can shove it where the sun don’t shine,” Yakko grins, cheeky and without any sort of heat to his voice, but his eyes certainly promise _something_ if Plotz tries anything. 

Ralph waves hello, from his place at the front of the carriage. Wakko waves back.

“No—I wasn’t going to—” Plotz gets out of the carriage and then pauses. “ _Well—_ but no—where are you three going?” The question sounds more like an accusation, and if Yakko cared about Plotz’s opinion in the slightest he might be offended. Luckily, he doesn’t.

“To the Doctor’s. We finally have the money for Dot’s operation,” he responds, and Plotz nearly falls over in shock

“O-O-Operation?!” he stutters out. “Wh-What operation?”

It occurs to Yakko, then, that Plotz didn’t know the reason why they needed that penny. Somehow, that makes him angrier, that Plotz didn’t even know enough to be careless with Dot’s life. Ignorance is somehow worse than him knowing and taking it, and Yakko can’t discern why.

“I have a hole in my lung,” Dot says sweetly. She grins, almost feral, because she knows that the guilt must be eating the poor man alive. He liked robbing the people of the money that brought them wealth, but being the cause of someone’s death just by collecting taxes was never his aim.

“We were gonna get it taken care of with the money I brought back, but,” Wakko shrugs.

“ _Taxes_ , amiright?” Yakko grins, and Plotz shrinks under his gaze.

“W-Well, how about I give you a ride to the office? Hmm?” Clearly, the offer is supposed to be more for the sake of Plotz’s conscience than anything else, but Yakko will take it anyway. He doesn’t want his sibs to be out of breath, especially Dot.

“Sure, why not? You’re paying, right?” he pushes the guard, who had been seemingly zoning out of the conversation, toward the carriage, and Plotz scrambles back, disappearing inside.

Yakko has Plotz sit next to the guard, and him and his sibs sit on the other bench. He stares Plotz in the eyes the entire time, just to watch the tax collector sweat.

Once they get to the doctor’s office, they head into the reception area. Yakko points the guard to a chair to the side of the front desk, so he'll still be able to side eye the guy when he's up at the front desk. Plotz and Ralph sit in two of the chairs behind them, and he honestly couldn’t care less. He wonders why they’re even still _here._

Hello Nurse greets them there, and after the customary greeting, Yakko gestures to Dot.

“We’re here for her operation,” he says, and she nods.

“I’ll get Dr. Scratchansniff,” she says, and disappears behind a door.

As they wait, Yakko glances over at Plotz and Ralph, and then at the guard. Neither of the 3 seem to know what to do in this environment, and he feels that sick satisfaction at their discomfort, the type he tries to keep under wraps. He doesn’t think himself cruel, because yes, revenge sounds nice, but he couldn’t bring himself to do real harm. He’s all jokes, fun and games.

He feels a tugging on his gloveless finger, and looks down.

Dot looks...unsure.

“Yakko...I’m scared,” she admits it like a terrible confession. “I don’t—what if it doesn’t work?” He kneels down to her eye level. “What if...What if I don’t get better—what if it doesn’t work at all? What if it _hurts?_ ”

She looks guilty for even asking such a question, even though it’s a perfectly reasonable reaction when dealing with such an operation.

“I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, but this is our best shot.” He doesn’t want to sugarcoat this now. 

He’s learned, from when her fury reached a fever pitch and she screamed at him about promises, and he’d gone outside to cry because he was _failing_ them, that empty promises only go so far. And this isn’t the time to give one, not when this is something she’s battling alone.

“Scratchy isn’t a bad doctor, and I trust him more than most adults. He’ll do his best, and we’ll be right out here, the entire time,” Yakko assures. Wakko comes around and opens his arms for a hug. She takes it, and Yakko pulls them both in.

“We’ll make it work, no matter what happens,” he adds, and when she looks up at him, still hugging Wakko, Yakko nuzzles her nose with his own. She giggles.

He stands as he hears a door open.

“Okay,” Dr. Scratchansniff is all business when he greets them. “Payment up front, and we can begin.”

Yakko rolls his eyes. 

“Wakko?”

Wakko reaches into his mouth and pulls out a hay penny, placing the slobber covered coin on the counter. Yakko snickers as Dr.Scratchansniff looks down at the coin with disgust. He pulls out a glove, puts it on, and picks it up, holding the coin far away from him.

“...Good,” Dr.Scratchansniff says, and Yakko has to physically restrain himself from bursting out laughing.

“Miss Dot, Hello Nurse will take you to your room. I am going to sterilize myself to prepare for surgery, ja?” Dot nods, as Hello Nurse comes out from a door to the left of the reception desk.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” Hello Nurse’s voice is calm, and very gentle. “You boys can sit out here. We’ll take care of her,” Maybe she can tell just how terrified Yakko is, or maybe the fact that Wakko’s tail is trembling is some sort of indication, because she’s gentle when speaking to them, too. 

Yakko wants to take Dot and run. He’s been doing this on his own for years, and now he’s just supposed to...trust an adult?

Adults can never be trusted. All the ones he’s met have been out to get them.

Wakko grabs his hand, squeezing it tight, and Yakko forces himself to relax. Dot needs this, regardless of his fear. He can deal. Hello Nurse is smiling sweetly to him, as she ushers Dot into the back room. Dot glances back, and waves with a small, nervous grin, and then she disappears.

Yakko lets himself be led, by Wakko, to the chairs. They sit next to Plotz and Ralph, and Yakko buries his face in his hands and takes a breath. It’s going to be fine. She’s going to be fine. 

Wakko leans against him, a comforting weight, and Yakko sits up, head resting against the wall. He holds Wakko close and tries to remember to breathe.

It’s a long several hours.

* * *

Wakko doesn’t say much, on the regular. Maybe it’s because Dot and Yakko take so much airspace, maybe he just never has the time to figure out what he wants to say. Sometimes, he thinks that his head is going half as fast as everyone else’s, that he’s just not quick enough to get a word in edgewise.

Nowadays, his thoughts are too fast. Too many. He got to the wishing star first, Dot’s going to have her operation, everything is going well, but every two seconds Wakko feels like he’s going to fall apart. There’s a jittery feeling to everything, as if the world is off kilter.

Every time he blinks, he sees the cave behind his eyes. He sees Sir.

His lungs feel like garbage, like he’s breathing _in_ garbage. But Yakko is already worried about Dot’s lungs, so he stifles the urge to cough and lets it out when no one’s around to hear.

Dot’s the important one, Yakko’s the older brother. They’re the ones who need to be looked at. All Wakko’s good for is making wishes and messes. It’s probably for the best that he’s typically overlooked.

When Dot disappears behind the door, he leans against Yakko, wrapping his tail around the leg of the chair to keep it from trembling. He needs to not make a fuss.

“Do you think Scratchy can do it right?” he asks, finally, because he can’t help but be nervous. That’s his baby sister. He basically has dealt with all of the terrible things in his life for her. What if Scratchy messes up?

“He better,” Yakko mutters, low enough that Wakko doesn’t think that he was supposed to hear. “I’m sure Scratchy wouldn’t say he could help if he couldn’t.” Wakko nods at that assertion, because Yakko’s words do make sense.

Yakko wraps an arm around Wakko’s shoulders, sighing.

“But hey, Dot’s not the only sib I’ve got. You doing alright? You look pretty tired,” Yakko seems genuinely concerned, which of course makes sense. Yakko puts everything on hold for Wakko and Dot, Wakko shouldn’t be so surprised that he’s getting this type of attention.

And yet.

“Not much time to sleep, these past few days,” he retorts, and Yakko chuckles.

“Fair enough. You sure you’re okay, though? You’ve been more quiet than normal,” Yakko somehow manages to notice, and in that moment, Wakko wants to tell him. He wants to talk about the terrible year he was gone, where he got beat up for trying and slept in the streets and almost died in the mines and _lost_ someone, but...

Yakko’s worried enough as it is. They’re in a hospital waiting room, with too many people around, and Dot’s the one having an operation.

“Just don’t have much to talk about,” he waves off Yakko’s worries with a shrug, and is equal parts relieved and guilty when Yakko buys the lie.

* * *

Dot smiles at Yakko as she is led into the patient center, but the moment she’s out of sight she lets any pretense of bravery drop. This is the first time in a long time that she’s been all by herself, facing something alone. They’ve all learned not to trust adults, even the ones that are nice, and she regards Hello Nurse with suspicion. 

She’s brought into a room with a long, metal table. There are holes that drain into a basin. For blood, she thinks, and then she immediately tries to get rid of the thought because it’s terrifying.

“I know this looks scary,” Hello Nurse starts, as if reading Dot’s mind, “But it’s very safe. The drains are for blood, but we’ll have an IV drip of new blood so you won’t run out. There are straps on the table to make sure you don’t move during the operation, but we won’t strap you in until you’re asleep. The light up top is for making sure we can see what we’re doing. Dr. Scratchansniff is very good at his job.”

She walks to a cabinet, and pulls out a white gown.

“I’ll leave the room. Please change into this. We wouldn’t want your skirt to get dirty,” Dot nods, waiting until Hello Nurse leaves.

She was never a fan of white. A boring color.

She pulls off her skirt, and then her flower, setting them gently on the extra chair before pulling on the gown. It buttons up the front, and she imagines they’ll unbutton down to her chest.

There’s a knock on the door, and she jumps.

“Miss Dot? It is Doctor Scratchansniff. Are you clothed?” Accent strong as ever, she thinks.

“Yep!” she replies, peppier than she feels. Dr.Scratchansniff comes in, wearing a surgical gown and gloves. Hello Nurse is right behind, wheeling in an IV and other instruments Dot gulps.

“Okay, missy, you are to being on the table now, please,” Dr.Scratchansniff gestures to the table, and Dot shuffles over. She would be too short to get up onto the table if she wasn’t a toon, but being a toon gives you extra springy feet.

So she jumps up, settling onto the cold metal. She shivers when it touches her fur.

“Okay, so we will be giving you the sleepy medicine first. Then, I am going to cut a little line in your chest. Then, I will put in a tube inside, and suck all of the liquid from your lung, so air can take up the space. Then, I will close the hole, close you up, and you will be all the healthy and good,” When he explains it simply like that, it doesn’t sound so bad. But she doesn’t like it anyway.

“Okay,” she responds, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

And then, because she’s only 10, she has to ask.

“Will it hurt?” Her voice is small, and she holds her hands anxiously over her chest.

“No, sweetheart,” Hello Nurse says, patting her head softly.

“The sleepy medicine will numb all the pains. You may be a bit sore after, but no real pain,” Dr.Scratchansniff adds, smiling down at her in what he thinks is a comforting manner. The glint of his large glasses in the light however does very little to inspire comfort.

“Are you ready?” he asks, and she _isn’t,_ not by a mile, but she nods.

He has her lay down, eyes to the ceiling. First, he puts the IV in her arm, and then in the other he holds the syringe, bringing it up to her inner elbow.

“This is the sleepy medicine,” he says, slowly injecting it in. The plus side when dealing with toons is that you never need to search for a vein, because their anatomy works around you, rather than you having to work around it. “Count back from ten.”

She rolls her eyes. 

_Ten, nine, eight—_

Nothing.

* * *

Yakko is a tensely coiled spring when Scratchy comes out to the waiting room. There are too many people here, too many people he doesn’t trust. He can’t just worry about Dot, he has to worry about Plotz, or the guard, or Ralph, trying anything, whether that be going after their money, Wakko, or himself. 

He wishes, sometimes, that he could have a break. But he’s the eldest and his parents are counting on him. So he sucks it up, like always.

“The operation was a complete success!” Dr.Scratchansniff cheers, as if sensing how worried Yakko was, and Yakko goes boneless, curling in on himself in relief before he jumps up with a grin. There’s a bubble of joy in his chest, and it feels like it’s filled with helium, keeping him upright and floating. Wakko grabs his hand, as if to keep him grounded.

“Can we see her?” Wakko asks, and Dr.Scratchansniff nods.

“She is not awake yet, but she will be soon.” He leads them inside, past the surgery room into the recovery area. Dot is asleep, but she isn’t making any sound, and it almost makes her look dead. Yakko takes a deep breath.

She has bandages around her chest.

“What’s the recovery time?” He asks, because he needs to say something.

“A few weeks is the norm for a human, but toons recover faster, so I would say a week,” Dr.Scratchansniff replies. “She will have decreased lung space, still, because the hole was there for a long time, but she will not have to worry about the cough fits, and she has 80% lung capacity still.”

He says it like a comfort, but for Yakko all it is is another addition to his failures when it comes to taking care of his sibs. He let them be so poor for so long that now Dot has permanent lung damage.

God, what would their parents think?

He’s shaken out of his reverie when he hears Dot shift in bed, his ears twitching as they locate the sound. She blinks awake slowly, and Yakko is at her side in an instant, holding her hand while Wakko comes around to the other side, holding the bed rail.

“Hey, Dot. How are you feeling?” Yakko keeps his voice low and soft. He doesn’t want to startle her.

“Like someone cut me open, genius,” is her snarky reply, and Wakko snickers. Yakko sags in relief—if she’s okay enough to joke, she’ll be fine.

“Well, you still look like a million bucks, so I don’t think it did too much,” he responds, and she preens at the compliment.

“Thanks, Yakko.”

Suddenly, there’s a commotion outside, and Yakko turns towards the door, hackles raised. The guard comes bursting in, Hello Nurse right behind him.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I tried to stop him-”

“I need to tell them something man! I waited for _five hours_ , man, I gotta say it, man! They gotta know!” The guard is in a near panic, waving his arms around. Dr. Scratchansniff puts himself in between the guard and the bed, shielding the children.

Yakko blinks in surprise at the action. Huh.

“Alright, Alright!” He shouts, before everyone gets too worked up. They all freeze, turning to him. “Just tell us already, before you pass out.”

“You’re the _heirs,_ man,” The guard bursts out, like some dirty secret. “You’re the **_Warners,_ ** you’re the royals. You’re the ones supposed to be on the throne, man!”

Wakko drops the hay penny he was fidgeting with, and Dot’s jaw drops. Hello Nurse gasps, and Dr. Scratchansniff stumbles back into the wall, using it to keep himself upright.

And Yakko? Yakko stares, in shock, wondering how this just came out. Wondering what this means. Wonders just what’s going to happen, now that his siblings know.

“Well, guess that explains our last name,” he deadpans, instead of anything else, and waits for the fallout.


	2. Prologue Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to take back what Salazar stole from them.
> 
> That is, if they don’t fall apart on the way there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe if I made these chapters under 5k words I could post them on a relative schedule but alas I am a rambler of a writer so suffer  
> also I wrote parts of this when I was in a dark place so if it gets a bit dark sorry bout it

The room erupts into a frenzy.

“We’re  _ WHAT? _ ” Yakko hears Dot shout. Dr. Scratchansniff is muttering in German, Hello Nurse is shouting, maybe screaming in shock, Wakko has his hands over his ears.

Yakko takes a deep breath.

“ **_HEY!_ ** ” he stomps his foot on the ground, hard, and his shout makes the room go silent. He rarely has to get that loud—in fact, he hates doing so, because it freaks out everyone around him. It had to be done, though.

“You have the resemblance—how did I not see it?” Dr. Scratchansniff puts a hand to his mouth in shock, and then goes pale. “I operated on the princess—oh no, this is the not good, I...,” he trails off, and Hello Nurse helps him to a chair.

“I don’t see what her status has to do with your quality of care, Doc. What, you fix up poor people worse than royalty?” Yakko says it more nonchalant than anything else, but his eyes sharpen at the thought. Would he—?

Dr. Scratchansniff frantically shakes his head, and Yakko shrugs.

“See, no harm no foul,” he turns, to the guard. 

“And, uh, thanks for the heads up, but I don’t know what you expect us to do about that. Last time I checked, fourteen year-olds can’t overthrow the government,” because he would have loved to kick King Salazar off of his high and mighty throne, but keeping his sibs safe always came first.

“We’re gonna stage a coup, man,” The guard says it in a hushed whisper. “Most of guards are sick of that guy—and I found the old royal portrait, and now that they know, they want Salazar out of here, man,” Yakko knows why the guard is whispering—if Plotz in the other room hears, if  _ any _ of Salazar’s supporters hear, they’re done for.

“What do you want  _ us _ to do about it?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest.

He sees Wakko kneel down and pick up the dropped coin out of the corner of his eye, and when Wakko goes to grab it Yakko notices his hands are shaking. Yakko knows a lot about his sibs. Wakko hasn’t been scared enough to be that shaky before.

“We need you to be there, man. We can do the fighting, but a kingdom needs its rulers, man.”

Yakko feels a headache coming on. If he hears  _ man _ one more time—“Just….stop.” He raises a hand and rubs his temples. “When is this happening?”

“Within a week” is the reply, and Yakko turns to Dr. Scratchansniff.

“When can Dot be moved out of the hospital?” He needs these pieces to figure out a plan. God, and here he thought they could have a  _ semblance _ of normalcy for two seconds. What a joke.

“Um,” Dr. Scratchansniff seems put off guard by the question, fumbling for an answer. “I think she should staying overnight, but after that she can go home.”

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath, stands up straight. The world settles on his shoulders, like it always does, and he deals with its weight like he always does. For a moment, the whole room can see him in a crown, the crest of the warnestock family emblazoned on his chest. Maybe it’s less because he was born royalty and more because he’s grown used to caring for his family as if they were his kingdom. Maybe it’s muscle memory. 

He points to the guard. “Wherever you need us to go, we’ll leave tomorrow when Dot’s able. Now,” he sighs, trailing off and waving a hand at every adult in the room. “Can everyone just-just give us some  _ space? _ ”

It takes a few moments for the words to register, but Hello Nurse helps Dr. Scratchansniff up, and leads the guard to the door.

“Let us know if you need anything, sweetheart,” she says, and then they all leave.

Yakko collapses into a chair.

What a mess.

* * *

Dot is reeling through the entire conversation, as Yakko deals with all the adults that are vying for their attention. She feels a bit guilty, but she’s once again too tired and weak to do anything herself, and if Yakko’s good at anything, it’s leading a conversation in a desired direction.

But there’s something wriggling in the back of her mind, asYakko talks. Because she thinks back on the expression Yakko had on his face, when he heard they were royalty. It wasn’t surprise. Shock, at the admission, but not surprise. And he took the news quickly, moved on quicker, took charge of the situation. She knows that part of it is probably because he felt the compulsion to, the need to.

But also...it makes her think. Because Yakko, despite their poor social standing, always had them hold their heads high. He always had them believe they were better than how they were treated, and maybe that was just him wanting them to not think of themselves as nothing, but it could be something else. Because they’re the Warners, they command the space, they always take charge, pull the town into musical numbers, and being leaders has always felt  _ right. _

She watches him slump into the chair, looking exhausted beyond belief, and a part of her just wants to let him sit. She isn’t cruel, she doesn’t want to see Yakko stressed.

But she’s also ten, and curious, and confused, and Yakko knows more than he’s letting on. And that part of her, that needs to know, makes her open her mouth and  _ push. _

“You didn’t look surprised,” she says, and Yakko looks up.

“What?” Clearly, he’s off his game, because if he was on it he would have a snappy comeback ready the moment the sentence left her mouth.

“About us being royalty. You didn’t look surprised.” Wakko looks at her in confusion, but Dot doesn’t feel like backing down.

That’s her issue, she knows. She never backs down from a fight. Never knows when to let something go.

“I mean, you’re the mouth of this family, but even  _ you _ ought to have been speechless, right?” She can see Yakko’s eyes narrow, before he shrugs with a nonchalant grin.

“Nah. I got a quip for everything.” She puffs up her cheeks in frustration at his deflection.

“ **_Yakko_ ** ,” she growls out.

“What?”

“You  _ knew! _ ” It’s shouted with a vitriol that makes Wakko take a step back from her bedside, confused and worried.

“Knew what?”

“You knew we were royalty!”

Wakko blinks in surprise, Yakko flinches like he was struck, and Dot trembles in her bed. Her chest hurts. She shouldn’t be yelling yet, doesn’t have the breath for it.

“And?” Yakko squares his shoulders, like he’s getting ready for a fight, and Dot hates that he feels the need to defend himself from her, but he knew, he  _ knew  _ and he  _ didn’t tell them. _

“Why didn’t you say anything?” It comes out more pained than angry, and Yakko deflates at her tone.

“There was no point,” he sounds so defeated.

“No point? We-we could’ve-we—” she tries to argue, never one to back down, but then Yakko looks up at her with a fire in his eyes that scares her.

“We could have what? Staged a coup? Yeah, that would have gone over well. Let’s us, a six year old, three year old, and two year old go up to the man who killed our parents and ask him to give us the throne back. Right? Because Salazar seems  _ so  _ charitable,” The way he’s saying it, she knows this has been on his mind for a long time. That for—for 8 years—he knew for _ 8 years _ , and he could only swallow the injustice as he kept them safe.

What did that  **do** to him? How much did that hurt?

“Mom and Dad told me to keep you two safe.” He says it like a mantra, like the thought has been repeating for years in his head.

And for a moment, Dot **_hates_** her parents. _How could they task Yakko with that, how could they place that responsibility on his shoulders, how could they do this to him, make him think that all that mattered was her and Wakko, and not himself? What kind of parents_ ** _are_** _they, to teach Yakko to forget that he’s important, too?_

“I took care of you—or at least,  _ tried  _ to.” He runs a hand through his fur, mussing up his cowlick. 

His voice sounds so self deprecating that she wants to strangle him. His whole body is a bit puffed up, she realizes. He must have been so stressed out it made his fur fluff, to make him bigger, to make him more intimidating. Because she made him feel like he needed to be.

_ Her and her big mouth. _

“It’s okay,” Wakko speaks up. “I get it.”

“Sorry,” Dot manages, because there are a million things she wants to say, there is a world of fury she wants to unleash, but those things aren’t for Yakko to hear. She wants to tear the world the pieces, find whatever deity decided to give them the life they have, to give Yakko the life he’s dealt with. She wants things to be fair. “It’s just—”

“It’s a lot,” Wakko finishes for her, an expression on his face very familiar. She can recall it from when she would hide a cough, when she would feign being healthy for a day. That facade in service of stopping concern from taking root in those around you. His hands are hidden, she notes, and he has this look in his eyes, like when you place your hand in front of the sun and the streaks of light still burst through the spaces between your fingers.

Like he’s covering up something. Did he learn that from Yakko?

_ When did her brothers start hiding so much from her? _

“But hey, we’re gonna go back to the castle, right? You think they’ll have a royal chef there?” Wakko changes the subject with ease, tongue lolling out of his mouth with a grin, and he definitely got that from Yakko.

Yakko doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he does, too tired to care. He huffs out a laugh that’s more wet than humorous, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, arms propping his head up. He wipes his eyes and leans back, against the wall. 

“Last time I remember being there, you sure gave the royal kitchens a run for their money with how much you ate,” Wakko beams at the comment, and Yakko seems to relax, now that he’s not thinking about the logistics of it all.

Dot can play this game, too.

“You think they’ll give me a new dress?”

Yakko opens his mouth, to regale her with another piece of near forgotten trivia, and Dot listens, letting Yakko forget just for a moment everything he’s been through, all the things he’s done.

Banter is always a distraction. She files away that information, and decides to be the perfect distraction, whenever Yakko needs her to be.

* * *

They have dinner, a few hours after the guard leaves. Yakko tells enough jokes and stories to make Dot cry with laughter, and Wakko’s tail wags so fast it’s practically a blur. He settles them into bed a few hours after that, opting for the chair because the hospital bed is just a bit too small for three.

He expected Dot to be angry. She backed down quicker than expected, though. He hadn’t meant to get so snappy, but he’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself to anyone. He did what was best for them, always. Knowing would have just made them despair, mourn the life they didn’t even remember. Without the comparison, their lives didn’t seem so bad, right? Why give them that wake up call?

He stretches, yawning, and heads towards the back door. He needs to collect their things if they’re leaving tomorrow morning, and the quicker he gets it done the sooner he stops worrying about it.

A hand grabbing his own stops him.

He turns, and Wakko is standing there, looking as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“Where are you going?” Wakko looks...there’s something off about his gaze. Yakko can’t decipher it. Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Yakko files that away and aims to figure it out when he has the time.

“Gonna go get all our stuff from the house,” and isn’t that a joke, calling the abandoned orphanage a house. “Since we’re moving and all that.”

“Can I get it?” Yakko blinks at the question, which is why Wakko seems to stumble over explanations. “It’s cold—I have my sweater—”

“And no pants. I got pants and no sweater. What’s the logic there?” Yakko interrupts. “Besides, I need you to stay back here and keep an eye on Dot. Don’t want anything to go wrong while I’m out.”

“I—” There’s a flicker of that something, something that Yakko can recall seeing earlier. When Wakko came back from his year long work trek, the day before, even. Fear? He can see Wakko’s tail curled around his one leg, a sign of anxiety, but he doesn’t understand. Since when was Wakko nervous about keeping Dot safe? He always took a shine to that, proud that Yakko would trust him with such a responsibility. 

“Okay,” and just like that, the fear is gone, like someone had taken the crudely drawn etch-a-sketch that is his brother and _ shaken  _ it to clear the slate. It’s startling. When did his brother learn to do that?

_ Why would he  _ **_need_ ** _ to? _

“I’ll be back quick,” he assures.

Wakko nods, that simple, dumb look on his face that Yakko thinks for a moment is real. Wakko can be a bit oblivious, and you can see it on his face, but this. This  _ isn’t _ that. And it frightens Yakko, more than he can articulate, that he almost thought it was.

He disappears out the door, watching Wakko walk over to Dot’s bedside over his shoulder as the door swings shut.

* * *

Wakko doesn’t have the time to be upset when he finds out who their parents are.

Everyone starts shouting, and the sounds fade into the crashing noise of tumbling rocks, the world crumbling around him as the ground shakes. He covers his ears and almost cowers, and he can hear the rock above him, cracking off of the ceiling, and Sir is shouting something, and—

Yakko’s yell snaps him out of it, and he is a tensely coiled spring of something as Yakko talks. Honestly, he doesn’t hear most of it. There’s a dull ringing in his ears that blurs the sounds around him into white noise. The adults leave, and it goes quiet, and for a moment Wakko feels like he can breathe.

And then Dot gets upset.

Wakko doesn’t blame her. If he had the time, he might be angry too. They’re not supposed to have secrets, not between each other, but Wakko’s a hypocrite so he doesn’t have anything to say.

He speaks up when Dot fumbles. Is this how Yakko feels, when he needs to talk his way out of a situation? It’s terrifying. You don’t know if what you said is gonna work until a moment after you let the words go, and that one moment is pure adrenaline.

Maybe it gets easier when you’re better at it. Wakko wouldn’t know.

Scratchy brings them dinner with small cups of his newest recipe of his elixir on the side, a few hours after all the adults clear out. It makes Dot hiccup, and Wakko lets out a belch that rattles the walls and startles a laugh out of Yakko. The food is soup, warm broth with potatoes and meat that forces the chill from their limbs, and Wakko can’t help but be grateful.

Scratchy isn’t so bad, for an adult. But he’s still one. So there’s that.

And then, in the night when they’re supposed to be sleeping, Yakko leaves. He has to get their stuff, and he’s going to leave Wakko  _ alone, _ with Dot, as if Wakko could keep her safe. Wakko can’t do anything, certainly not keep his sister safe! He couldn’t even keep himself safe, he got Sir killed, he can’t keep her safe.

But Yakko goes, anyway, and Wakko sits beside her bed and doesn’t let the idea of rest cross his mind. His eyes dart towards any of the entrances to the room, vigilant.

He’s a prince, he realizes. The thought is...it comes to him unbidden, and he tries to imagine it. Him, a prince. Tasked with helping keep a  _ kingdom  _ safe, its  _ people  _ safe.

He’s already failed, and he didn’t even know it.

He laughs, quietly to himself, and wipes his tears before Yakko’s back to see.

* * *

The next morning, Dot is discharged. She’s practically glowing with joy, jumping out of bed before she stumbles a bit.

“I would not do the jumping, ja? You need to still be careful.” Dr. Scratchansniff’s hand is gentle against her back, but Yakko pulls her away anyway, keeping her close to him. Dr. Scratchansniff seems surprised at the action, glancing over at Yakko in confusion, but Yakko narrows his eyes and shrugs, nonchalant.

Wakko is quiet as always, chewing on the lollipop stick that once held a lollipop. Hello Nurse gave it to him, so now of the two adults here, she’s his favorite.

“Be careful, you three,” Hello Nurse waves them goodbye, and Wakko laughs.

“Never are!” Yakko returns with that trademark grin.

They meet the guard at the edge of town. He has a caravan, and there’s another guard who’s driving it. He ushers them inside, hidden from the world.

Yakko has his claws out. Wakko notices it only because one of Yakko’s gloves is missing a finger, so it’s easy to see. But Yakko has his claws out, something he’s never seen Yakko do. Toons don’t like to use their more...animalistic features unless it’s funny or if they’re in grave danger. Wakko guesses that Yakko is adhering to the latter.

He keeps them out as they sit in the caravan, and as they depart. Wakko doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yakko so tense before.

“What’s the plan?” Dot asks.

“There are some guys—they support Salazar, man,” the guard explains. “We got numbers, but still. So we’re gonna fight them, and you’re gonna show up and kick Salazar out when he’s all alone, man.” What a plan. Very detailed.

“You do realize he killed our parents, right?” Yakko’s voice is quiet, even dark. “I don’t think we’re going to be exactly prepared to kick him out ourselves.”

“Dot’s still recovering,” Wakko adds.

“He won because he  **cheated** , man. Had  _ Dip  _ and everything—” Yakko flinches at the mention of it. “But we got it locked down, man. He won’t be able to do anything. It’s performative, man.  _ You  _ have to take back  _ your  _ kingdom.”

There’s a question on Wakko’s tongue. He wants to know how exactly his parents died, which is stupid, because the answer will only hurt. But doesn’t the absence of knowledge hurt too? He can certainly make a guess. Everyone knows what Dip is, it was outlawed in all the lands for its torturous properties.

It’s acid for toons. Strips them down, layer by layer, from color to line to sketch to paper to  **_nothing_ ** .

A part of him wants to know for sure. Wonders if Yakko was there to see.

He glances over at Yakko, and by the expression on his face, likely not. There’s grim realization, not recognition. A small mercy, he thinks. Yakko doesn’t get many of those.

“Well, _ I  _ think we can handle it,” Dot pipes up. She’s holding Yakko’s hand, running her fingers over his claws. Yakko doesn’t so much as twitch a finger, worried of hurting her. 

As if he’d ever.

“I guess we have our vote of confidence there,” Yakko chuckles. “Wakko?”

Wakko shrugs.

“Why not?” he doesn’t have a lot of strong feelings on the matter. “What have we got to lose, really? And it sounds easy.”

Sounds, at least. Wakko isn’t sure how easy it will really be.

“Guess we’re in, then.” Yakko puts his arm around Wakko’s shoulders and pulls him close. He _ still  _ has his claws out.

The rest of the trip is relatively silent.

* * *

They arrive at the castle in higher spirits. Yakko spends the last ten or so minutes of the ride cracking jokes that have Dot giggling up a storm, and even Wakko has to break eventually. He’s curled in on himself, laughing before they’re shushed as they reach the castle gates.

“Cargo delivery,” The guard driving the caravan says to the gate guard. Yakko thinks he sees the two share a look, a wink, and then they’re moved on through. They’re brought around to the back of the castle, into the loading area, and are ushered out into the castle.

“We’re going to the servant’s quarters,” The guard whispers, and Yakko keeps his sibs in front of him. If they’re gonna be double crossed, they’ll have to go through him, first.

They’re brought into a small room, with a bed and dresser.

“This one is empty. It’s not being used since Salazar fired a bunch of the servants,” They’re told.

“Fired them? Why?” Dot asks.

“Were they too flammable?” Wakko pipes up. Yakko snickers.

“He’s been on a short fuse since the wishing star, man. One wrong step and you’re toast.”

Yakko snorts at the phrasing.

“You’re making this too easy for us,” he snarks.

The guard blinks, bewildered. Yakko sighs.

“Soooo, do we just wait here until you guys holler, or...?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest and looks on expectantly.

“Yeah-uh-I’ll come get you,” the guard fumbles over his words and plans, and Yakko raises a brow.

“Alright.” He shrugs, and leads his sibs to the bed. “It’s nap time, then.”

After the guard leaves, they settle on the bed. Dot is out quick, snoring softly as she leans against him, and Yakko supposes the trip must have taken more out of her than she let on. She  _ is _ still recovering from surgery, she’ll probably be tired for the rest of the week. He makes a note not to throw her into many extravagant activities if he can, at least until she’s recovered her strength.

Wakko...well, it sounds like he’s asleep, but he isn’t doing the thing where his legs kick and twitch, and his arms barely move. Every part of him is tense and still, even as he snores, and Yakko can’t imagine why Wakko would _ fake  _ sleeping. Wakko  _ likes  _ sleeping. Who doesn’t?

He wants to stay up until he feels Wakko actually rest, but he’s more tired than he wants to admit, and his eyes slide shut without him meaning them to, worried thoughts carrying him off to a fitful rest.

* * *

Wakko knows he should sleep. He's exhausted. It's a feeling deep down into his bones, this tiredness, because it’s more than just being tired, of staying up too late, of working too hard all in one day.

He hasn’t been sleeping well enough even when he does, and there’s a constant thrum of anxiety that sits in his chest, makes his heart stutter with every unexpected event, and as time goes on unexpected events become the expected. He’s so exhausted by being awake, but his dreams don’t leave him feeling rested either, so he just can’t win.

At the very least, Yakko has put away his claws, fallen asleep. He and Dot are safe and resting, and Wakko can be their guard. Dot’s been sick for so long, and Yakko’s been protecting them since forever, so Wakko can pick up the slack. He always has, regardless of what he wanted or needed. He just needs a good meal and smiles on the faces of his siblings, not in that order. 

Wakko watches the stars, and hums a tune under his breath.

“Wishing star, so bright and true, our world has changed since meeting you,” he whispers with just enough melody to be called a song. “So many things are happening. Don’t know what it all is so I just sing,” he sits up, gentle enough that he doesn’t jostle Yakko awake.

“Is this all really my dream? We’re back home but what does that mean?” he fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater, starting up another verse.

“Wishing star, so bright and clear, was it a mistake to come back here? In a world we’ve never known, told it’s time to take our throne,” he’s a prince, he’s in charge, and yet.

“Wishing star, can I believe? This is where I deserve to be...” He trails off, light of the moon shining against his face, casting his shadow on his siblings and the bed behind him.

Time moves slow, and he just stares at the countryside, waiting.

There’s a crash from above, and he jumps, tumbling off of the bed. Yakko shoots up as if he were spring-loaded, and he frantically looks around for Wakko, pawing around the bed for him until Wakko pops back up from the floor.

Dot is up a moment later, rubbing her eyes and clinging to Yakko as if he’s her teddy bear.

There’s a knock on the door, and Yakko motions for Wakko to get behind him.

Wakko doesn’t move.

The ever familiar guard— _ they really ought to learn his name at some point _ —pops his head in, looking haggard and sweaty. Wakko doesn’t miss the smear of blood on his sword.

“C’mon,” There’s no time for ‘man’ apparently, as he motions them to the door, and Yakko’s claws are out again.

Wakko lets out his own, so he can be just as formidable.

They disappear into the night.

* * *

The flickering of the torches in the hallway add to the eerie atmosphere, and not one of the 3 children trust that they’re being brought to anywhere besides a trap. Wakko’s mallet is out, and Dot has her mace, strong enough to lift it so it doesn’t scrape against the floor. All Yakko has are his words and his claws, and he keeps himself in front of his siblings as a shield. 

They pass by a body that doesn’t move, or breathe. They don’t know whose side the soldier was on.

“We have the throne room surrounded, man,” the guard whispers, and his breaths are harried. His hands are shaking, and they would be worried for him if they had the energy or time to worry about anything else besides each other.

They can’t waste their time on other people, emotionally or physically, not when everyone else is out to get them. That doesn’t mean they want everyone to be in pain, to suffer, on the contrary. They just aren’t going to make an effort to help everyone else when they can barely help themselves. They still try, and Wakko’s desire to use his money to help the town as much as to help themselves is proof of that, but they have to stay distant, because people leave. People backstab. People lie. 

People kill.

“Well, sibs,” Yakko breathes as they head to the throne room back door, “Ready to take back our throne?”

Dot’s grin is feral, her fur sharp enough to cut as it fluffs up, and Wakko’s hat has never looked more intimidating as it lengthens his shadow.

“We were born ready,” Dot says, and they head in.

Salazar is on his throne, seemingly unaware of the assault upon his guards, though he does take note of the sound of the door opening and closing behind him.

“ _ Finally _ , a servant competent to check on me. Being a King is  _ not  _ easy work,” his condescending complaint grates their ears.

“Oh Salzy~!” They cheer, and Salazar jumps out of the throne _ —it’s not his, it’s  _ **_theirs,_ ** _ doesn’t matter if they don’t feel like it is yet because they’ve staked a claim and they will  _ **_fight_ ** _ for it _ —turning on the dime and backing away from their voices.

“Sally?” Yakko hops onto the throne, hand under his chin, his brow raised as if in a silent question.

“Sandra?” Dot pops up on Salazar’s side, and the monarch yelps, stumbling back.

He trips over Wakko’s leg.

“Salisbury?” Wakko adds, and at the thought of it starts to drool. “...Steak...”

“Salacious?” Yakko tries.

“Salamander?” Dot pipes up, her and Wakko closing in, weapons raised. Salazar crab walks backwards until his back hits the wall.

“Sacrilegious?” Wakko taps Salazar’s foot with his mallet, as if testing his aim.

“That outfit, maybe,” Dot sneers. “Whoever your royal tailor is, fire them.”

“Hey, don’t put someone out of a job like that. Besides, if Saltine’s taste is anything to go by, it’s probably his fault,” Yakko sprawls out on the throne, as if he was born to sit there.

Well, he was. Funny how that works.

“It’s Salazar you-y-you miscreants!” Finally, Salazar finds his voice, and the three turn away from their conversation with each other to stare at him with gazes that shut him up quick.

“Honestly, Salarts, your name is the least important thing here,” Dot puts her hands on her hips.

“I think being deposed is probably more important, Saltana,” Wakko shrugs.

“Deposed?!” Salazar all but shrieks. Yakko snickers.

“Surprise!” He throws his hands out and grins. “Thanks for keeping the seat warm, Seesaw, but we’re taking it back. It is ours, after all,” Salazar pales at the reminder.

“What, did you think you could get away with it forever?” Dot rolls her eyes. “Men.”

“ _ Your  _ men are zilch,” Wakko sets his mallet on his shoulder, grinning with his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. “We made a few friends.”

“Turns out robbing a country blind doesn’t make you popular,” Yakko shrugs, as if it was a shock to him, too. “So, sorry not sorry, you’re arrested. Guards!”

On their cue, guards come out and surround Salazar, two grabbing him by the arms and forcing him to his feet.

“Traitors! I’ll have you beheaded!” Salazar kicks his feet and struggles.

Yakko looks on, bored, and Dot swings her mace up to hit where the sun don’t shine. Salazar lets out a whine that makes everyone else in the room wince, and goes still, knees scrunched up to his chest in pain.

“That’s for Yakko,” she tells him, because she knows she should be angrier about her parents, about the ones she never got to know, but she only has the one, now, and Salazar is the reason why Yakko never got to go to school, why Yakko worries about if they will be able to eat that day instead of if he’ll get in trouble for his room not being clean.

Wakko hops up and slams his mallet down on Salazar’s head. Salazar sees nothing but stars and says nothing that can be deciphered as language.

“Mom and Dad,” he says, simply, and then whispers another name she doesn’t catch.

“What should we do with him, your majesty?” One of the guards asks, eyes trained on Yakko.

It takes Yakko a minute to realize that they’re talking to him, of all people. He blinks, sits up.  _ Your majesty, huh. _

“To the dungeons, I guess. Do we have dungeons?” he looks over at Wakko and Dot, as if they would know. They both shrug.

“We have dungeons, sir,” another guard replies. Yakko nods, not really decisive, more just as an acknowledgement.

“Cool. Take him there, then.”

Salazar vanishes out the door, and Wakko and Dot scamper towards their eldest. They hop onto the armrests of the throne that seems too big for just one of them to sit in.

“We won,” Dot whispers, like saying it louder will break the illusion.

“That was easy,” Wakko nods to her statement, and Yakko laughs, but it sounds more exhausted than happy.

They sit like that, silent for a moment. The guards stare at them as if they aren’t sure what to think of them. And the Warners, they’re used to that. Being unknowns, being oddballs.

And yet they’re also being looked at as if they have power. Wisdom. Leadership skills? There’s so much that is expected of them now. Where do they even begin?

“What now?” Dot asks, and, like usual, Yakko finds himself being looked to for answers he doesn’t have. They’re royals now. Monarchs. In charge.

“Guess we get fitted for our crowns,” he replies, and they wait for the changes to come.


End file.
